Kinky Boots
by Jason Layton
Summary: Hopefully a Big Brother Drabble Fic, after my fic Sin's of the father, but that doesn't really matter! Fic contains my O/C. Oh and having just uploaded chapt 7 I am seriously questioning my career choice. There are A LOT of outfits in these!Jas xx
1. Chapter 1

**Right so I know I should be writing my other fic's not starting any new ones, and I'm not sure where this is going. However this little drabble scene decided to haunt my dreams last night, so here it is. **

**I'd like it to be a Mycroft fic, 'cos he's fun to write.**

**Hope you like**

**Jas xx**

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><p>Slipping out of the window the zip of her thigh length black leather boots caught on the hasp. She swore as she felt the tug, he'd spot any tiny fleck of metal paint, any scratch of the white gloss of the lintel, or bronze hasp. She had hoped to slip out, and back again unnoticed, excusing herself to sleep in the little attic room had given her time to change and prepare for her adventure. The night was hot and sticky, with the oppressive overtone of a thunderstorm that just wouldn't break, and although she had chosen her outfit with the heat in mind, the JPG bodysuit was tight and it wouldn't do to be hot and flustered.<p>

She dropped from the window and swung onto the fire-escape platform gently using the balls of her feet. The trickiest bit of this climb was carefully avoiding dropping her 8-inch stiletto heels through the metalwork grid. To avoid this she climbed the outside of the staircase, monkey scrambling until she reached the solid concrete below. She smiled a shark-like grin as she looked up the four story building to the carefully shut garret window she had just emerged from. No one would believe it was a viable escape route, no one but him.

The black Langham coat she had chosen for this evening, wasn't the most sexy item she wore, but it covered her outfit, and would keep her somewhat drier if the weather suddenly broke. Aware that it was after midnight on a Friday morning, she was in no hurry to be arrested for soliciting, and although her stays were just visible below the coat, the crotch of the body suit, and her buttocks were well covered. The coat also had nice strong pockets, although she carried a credit card and some ID inside her boots, the coat contained her wallet with some cash, and her carefully hidden Bernadelli Gardone .25 ACP.

He once told her the best way to move if trying not to attract attention is to walk as if you belong. Head held high, even steps, she strolled casually through the summer's night, her hair was pulled back into a long French plat, It's normal dirty blonde, dulled by a sheen of purple hair mascara which matched her chosen makeup. When her face was caught in the orange streetlights, it flashed blue and purple her normal pale skin taking the colour of black lipstick and purple eyeshadow. Her normal blue eyes flashed with the red contact lenses she wore, plunging on through the night, a true Vamp.

When she reached the club, her face lit with a smirk, she wasn't early, but she was in no way late. When the invite had reached her she was sure she wouldn't be allowed to go, but the more she planned, the more she was convinced she could escape him for an evening. She slipped down the anonymous basement steps, and knocking three times on the anonymous wooden door, she was admitted into the darkness of the club. The music was heavy and base led, just as she liked it, and the room was filled with darkly dressed men and woman, some in fetish, but the most worrying of them, in dress suits.

Some of the faces she recognized, some of them recognized her. Although recognition except in closed groups was often frowned upon, she was well known and popular and some couldn't help smiling at her. Others carefully avoided crossing her path, as she walked through the throng of bodies. Some people had half formed memories of her that even in this environment scared them, and of course some people just knew about him. Some had been on his wrong side, some on his right, but people don't like to be reminded of people like him, especially when they were trying to forget everything else.

She was looking for a familiar face, the man who had invited her, to thank him, to show him she'd come, to show him that despite her domestic cage, she was capable of escape. However brief enquiry's showed he was not free at that moment. He would return later, return for the main show return for whatever he had planned, and she would wait patiently. She walked towards the uniformed waitress to collect a glass of Cristal, when her eyes alighted on the black umbrella perched against the padded wall. She turned, as firm hands carefully removed her coat from her.

"Good evening Mycroft".

"Good evening Lucy, what a pleasant surprise."

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><p><strong>P.S. Lucy is now away until Good Friday, boo hiss, so my sister and I are making the most of an empty house, I've invented a new meal Chocolate sauce, Maple Syrup and rice pudding, followed by sardines and pasta sauce, followed by many different cheeses and salsa! My Mass tomorrow we might be very fragrant, and I may have gone mad!<strong>

**Please review**

**Jas xx**


	2. Chapter 2

Ok we are starting back gently, please be kind!

He once described Mycroft as the most dangerous man you're ever likely to meet. It was true, not because of some dark criminal intent, or because of a physical menace, but because of himself. He was a quiet man, with a soft voice, who she knew from experience was kind to small children and animals. This man however ran the country, ran the intellegence of most of the western world, controlled a huge network of disconnected operatives, this man was dangerous in a league of his own.

It was Mycroft who had introduced Lucy to Anderson Croom and Maurice Rathbone, sticky slimy men who controlled the seedy alternative club scene in London. Both in his direct pay their own brand of deviance safer in the older mans mind for his brother and sister-in-law, than the dark pits they had previously frequented. However his brother had found Mycroft's possible presence an intolerable threat, and was never more than an occaasional visitor. Lucy's membership had been more frequent, meeting Mycroft not holding the same terror for her.

Mycroft led her to a booth in the corner of the darkened basment, the floor was full of writhing couples, and other menages, and the stage steps full of the more extrovert members of the club. However Mycroft was holding a small court around a clean wooden table, on spotless deep red velvet coated booth seats. The Foreign Secretary, the head of the civil service, the Director 22 sqd and Anthea looked up from what had been a stony silent deadlock, as Mycroft and Lucy approached. There was a moment of dignified scooting to allow the newcomers room while Mycroft stood silently above them, before directing Lucy to the space beside the Foreign Secretary, and taking his own place beside Anthea.

Lucy my not have the Holmes deductive powers, but you couldn't be admitted into the family without picking something up, the pile of papers in front of her, and the anxious faces around the table, gave her the clue to the matter.

"The Cambodian Dentist, I presume?" she asked looking around the assmbled company. Mycroft nodded, and passed her an MI6 file.

"Although I will remind you, that the lady is British not in fact Cambodian" he clarified, "Do you all know Prof Steadman?" He asked the others, although knowing the answer, his eyes alighted upon the Foreign Secretary, who was oblivious to all but the alluring suited woman who'd just been seated next to him. "Foreign Secretary, have you met Professor Steadman?" Mycroft tried again. Lucy became aware of the eyes upon her, and looking up flashed the struck MP her bright Shark's Smile.

"Wonderful to meet you Mr Hamilton" she told the hapless minister, "I've been following your career with some interest"

"Geoff, please!" he told her tightly covered breasts, and then fell silent once again. Lucy looked up at Anthea and recieved an unusually sympathetic shrug, before Mycroft spoke again.

"Director, what do you suggest?" He asked the balding military man seated the otherside of the pre-occupied politician. "This is your area of expertise."

"Well" the man started pulling the map towards himself "As the delightful Lucille will no doubt tell you" he flashed her a smile which she returned patiently, "we have a history of this type of rescue operation, but usually these are fairly clear cut. This is more complicated as it doesn't just involve a civilian but legally this woman has been given over voluntarily by her husband. We could always pull a black op, but we are playing with fire, personally I would suggest we let this one go."

The head mandarin nodded his agreement, but mycroft just rubbed the bridge of his nose, and looked to Lucy. "What do you suggest he asked?" This caused Hamilton to look up at her, surprised to find that this delightful creature might have some input on the current crisis.

"Well although Mark is techniclly correct" Lucy started nodding to the Director, "we can't afford to let this foolish woman go. So I would suggest taking the black op option, however logistics are not really my area, although I'm sure Mark has suggestions."

"Why can't we afford to let this woman get herself killed?" The foriegn Secretary asked, in a miffed voice, banging his fist on the table.

"Because of the son" A tall dignified young man came out of the shadows , and put his hand on Lucy's shoulder, kissing the top of her head, "Lovely to see you came Luce, Mycroft insisted, do you think you can get that husband of yours to take the case? That would make life easier for all."

"Yes, well thank you Anderson" Mycroft added "It is as Mr Croom just informed us because of Dr Welch's son" he told Hamilton "He is rather important, and well, we would have a serious cause for concern if his identity was compromised because of his mother's current difficulties, much better for all if she could be retrieved and brought back to the UK."

"And the slimy new husband disposed of" Anthea added before looking up apologetically and returned to her blackberry.

"Has the son asked us to rescue his mother?" Lucy asked suddenly, staring at Mycroft "It's just I know him quite well, and well he's a bit of a fool towards these things, he may just go on telly and shout to the whole world.."

"No he won't" Mycroft interupted, "Because while we are rescuing the mother your going to keep him company, one old friend comforting another."

Lucy groaned and put her head in her hands, this is why they locked her in a garret, and rarely let her out on her home, one evening to visit a club, and she finishes it babysitting the Governments own Barrister, Mr AM Wall QC.

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

**OK so I think this is rubbish, more drabbles than anything, but I needed to write something so here it is.**

The first greenish tinges of dawn are spreading over the roofs and round the edges of London's darkened office's and apartments before she gets home. Delivered unsolubriously by her own direction to Siddons Lane, she now looks up at the garret of 221 Baker Street.

"Are you sure you'll be ok?" Mycroft's efficient but curious driver asks, looking up at the range of buildings in wonder and disbelief as to how she would get back inside her own home.

"It's fine" She assured him smiling confidently "It's a brick wall, 11 garden fences, and a fire escape" She smiled her full sharks smile "Then I just need to get onto the roof and I'm in!"

As he shook his head in disbelief, she scrambled up the decorative buttress of the Ivor Place flats, up onto the first balcony, stepping neatly over the barbed wire on the adjacent wall, and with a small wave disappeared accross the other side.

He didn't see her land slightly badly and the wobble which needed to be stopped with a hand onto slick filthy walls. He missed her scrambling up onto the first garden shed, then scampering along the mismatch of fences and walling that made up the boundaries of the Siddon Lane and Baker Street flats. Her careful avoidance of the various plant pots and trellising despite the lack of light in the darkened yards. And he missed her giving up her boots entirely, leaving them in a tangle in Mrs Hudsons pop-up greenhouse, before wearily climbing up the firescape in the traditional manner. Finally he missed her swearing about her age, before she scarmbled the final six foot of roof and wall to reach the slightly ajar window to the attic room, and hauling herself through.

However what Sherlock Holmes didn't miss, what the way her pupils dilated in shock, and the look of resignation that passed her features when having pulled herself through the bedroom window, she was greeted by the sight of him, fully dressed in belstaff coat and scarf, cross legged on the floral duvet.

"I would ask where you had been, except it is obvious and I am aware I would sound like an irate father." The detective smirked and flung himself from the bed.

"Is that what your going to set yourself up as? My worried paternal figure? Because as you know, I have a father, he's very much alive and worries about me all for himself." She huffed lightly and started stripping off unashamedly infront of him.

"What does Mycroft want me to do?" he asked pouting, then throwing her nightgown at her.

"Nothing, my little egotist" then knowing that she couldn't lie to him, "he has a small job for me, so you and John will have to look after the boys for a few weeks."

He had huffed off then, and she had taken the opportunity to get some sleep.

The following afternoon, found Lucy stood in front of the 16th Century Hertfordshire Farmhouse that belonged to the Governments favourite Barrister. It's clay tiles buzzed with the activity of hundreds of roof bee's, and the gentle summer breeze brought the smell of the sweetpeas that ran up the front trellis to her nose.

The Barrister was a single man, passionate about self-sufficiency, and although only in his thirties he had bought this 26 acre farm as a retirement project. It was beautiful and peaceful, with an orchard, stables and outbuildings that he was slowly turning into a dairy, bakery, buttery and hopefully later on a small farm shop.

He had once been a neighbour to Lucy at her Kensington home, and they had remained firm friends. Unlike her Sociopath husband she could form lasting friendships without fuss, and was a regular visitor to Staples Farm, to meet with Andrew, and go through his plans. Assessing the security had been a formality as Mycroft had spent a small fortune doing similar, although of course her role was not to protect her old friend from harm, but to stop him from escaping and trying to rescue his mother himself.

She'd texted Sherlock to let him know she had arrived safely he'd replied with a torrent of abuse based on her poor parenting skills, then silence. John had texted her back a few moments later telling her all was well, and sherlock was just playing up because Mycroft refused to let him help with the case. Lucy had smirked at that, she knew both men so well she knew Mycroft was winding Sherlock up, soon very soon he'd make a 'mistake' and Sherlock would jump up and solve the whole messy affair, and of course while he and John were doing that, she would have left her garretted London prison for the comfortble open Prison of this Stuart farmstead.

**It will be continued...**

**Jas xx**


	4. Chapter 4

I'd alwys wanted this to be a big brother fic honest!

Mycroft Holmes is a hermit of sorts, he rarely stirs from his dark whitehall cave, and when he does it is usually because of the one thing in his life he values above all else, his brother.

Mycroft Holmes however has a real job, he is the British Government, his role is to silently and efficiently control and protect his citizens. In order to do this he gathers around him a cabinet of trusted men and women.

The civil service is constant and stable, the politicians will change, the politics will shift, even the monarchy will come and go but that isn't what makes the British Government. It is the unaccountable anonymous force that has the real power.

This force works on secrets and lies. Truths and half truths, are set and disgaurded in quick succession to ensure that power and control is maintained, that Britain Always Prevails. Mycroft Holmes primus inter pares of this undertaking will not let it fall.

This is why we come to the case Lucy called 'The Cambodian Dentist', a singularly foolish woman who in her early sixties ran off and married a man she had known for barely six weeks. Her family were horrified especially as her husband of 42 years had only died 8 weeks before her wedding.

Unfortunately her new husband was somewhat of a bluebeard and had 3 previous wives all deceased within a short period of their marriage. Whether he had chosen this new bride badly, thinking as a widow and a dentist she would be the perfect next victim, without finding out her personal circumstances, or whether he had some other motive. He had chosen the mother of a particularly talented young QC and Barrister.

One of Mycrofts own prodigies and discoveries Andrew Wall, was a brilliant and gifted lawyer, he had recieved his seat in Mycroft's cabinet of talents barely days after his 30th birthday. When his mother had remarried he had her accounts frozen, her assets seized and because Mycrofts cabinet can be rather omnipresent himself made power of attorney. Her Bluebeard was undone, and our QC believed his mother safe, then they went on honeymoon.

Cambodia is a beautiful sad kingdom, scarred by war and poverty, it is still the haunt of the worst classes in international society. Sherlock had been there in his darker years, Lucy as well, the mercenary men who roam the battlefields of this world still find safe haven there, but so do the hippies, the dreamers the travellers. Whether our Bluebeard went for the spiritual trail blazers, or the drug fueled guerillas he met with a group of international apostates, and promptly sold his wife to them.

She of course immeadiately demanded contact with her son, and caused the current crisis facing Mycroft Holmes. Officially a British Pensioner has been sold illegally into slavery by her dispicable new husband, her son a British Barrister is attempting to have her returned. To the British Government she is a pawn whereby her life could be traded for almost anything whilst her son was desperate to have her returned.

While Mycroft sort out the best routes to effect her return without giving anything away, he had his man secured away by his sister-in-law to stop him doing anything, foolish. Mycroft then was free to review his own, private resources to secure an outcome, he was just hoping it wouldn't come to using his most precious resource, his darling brother.

Oh yeah well I love V for vendetta!

Cambodia is lovely and since 1997 has been rebuilding itself under it's restored monarchy, my knowledge of the country comes from either pre-97 or Top Gear! lol

However the story is based on a true case pre97 and I didn't want to change too much.

Jas xx


	5. Chapter 5

**Trying to get this back to being a Mycroft fic!**

"The negotiations with the Cambodian kidnappers aren't going anywhere, then?" John asked when he walked through the door that evening. It was three days after Lucy had left for Hertfordshire and whether by luck or Mycroft's design Sherlock had no cases. Instead the World's Only Consulting Detective had been forced to bring his own brand of expertise to babysitting his youngest son. The sight that had greeted John on return from the surgery was reminiscent of the first airstrike he'd ever seen….only with jam.

BBC News 24 was on their TV, which had moved from its usual corner to the middle of the room, although Sherlock's attention was entirely taken up with diplomatic reports spread all over the living room carpet. John jnr was sat happily in the centre of the mess, his tiny chubby fingers drawing over the accessible papers, the TV, the carpet and himself in raspberry jam. John dropped his medical bag in the corner and walked towards his tiny namesake. Picking up the sticky gurgling child, he looked down over his partners head.

"We could have just sent the boys to your mother's if you were busy!" John scolded

"The boys fine, look I've fed him, we've had a morning going through these reports, now your home." He said waving a photograph of the missing woman distractedly.

"Where is Simon?" John asked, referring to his eldest Godchild, but he got nothing but a non-committal grunt. Deciding that the most pressing issue was to feed and clean and feed the toddler, John left Sherlock to his study. He took him to the bathroom initially carefully washing the jam from his tiny limbs, listening to the happy gurgling baby talk as he did so. "What has your Daddy done to you?" he asked his charge, dressing him in clean clothes.

"No!" junior suddenly shouted "Mycoff not Daddy!"

John was so shocked, he dropped the tiny pair of socks he'd been busily unrolling. "Has Uncle Mycroft been here, Junior?"

"Yeth" the child lisped "He came to take Thimon to thcool" he announced simply then concentrated hard on chewing his sleeve, and John was aware he would get very little else out of the child for a while. Picking the child up again, he went back to the living room.

"Mycroft was here?" John asked Sherlock "Did he say anything about Lucy?"

"Yeah, erm she's OK apparently" he was reading distractedly again "Mycroft gave the boy food, I wasn't really interested, and he came to take Simon away."

John shook his head in disbelief, Sherlock was completely disinterested. He started making some lunch for the three of them, when an idea struck him. He turned around from the counter, and stared at a spot just above the kitchen door.

"Mycroft, can you catch me up please?" John asked the spot above the door. Immediately his phone bleeped with a message.

_Downstairs 5 mins_

_I would bring "Junior" _

_MH_

Mycroft had a number of security cameras permanently on the residents of 221B, not that he watched them constantly of course, and he had people for that. However any direct interaction with those cameras was automatically reported to him, and before Dr Watson had started speaking his image was being shown on the office television. Mycroft sent off his text message, and called 'not' Anthea to get a car ready for him.

Despite appearances Mycroft really was rather found of Dr Watson. He was a stabilising force in his brother's life and had by some amazing feat managed to wean both Sherlock and Lucille off recreational drugs. Whenever the man has a genuine query or problem, Mycroft will attempt to accommodate them. Mycroft was not a man to be easily surprised, but his brother's domestic situation had surprised him. Not the mechanics, for that was an inevitable side effect of the three personalities clashing, but the simple domesticity that the five normally fell into.

Mycroft had sent Lucille away because he genuinely needed her help, he assumed it would be a temporary break for her and of little consequence to the two men. The Doctor's desperate plea earlier, as well as the state he'd found Sherlock and his son's in when he'd intervened to take Simon to school, had changed his mind about that. He didn't think for a moment that either man would cease to function without the presence of his sister-in-law, but he had thought they would cope better as a family unit of 4 than they had to date.

By the time John had entered the back of Mycroft's Mercedes, a plan had formulated in the Government's mind. The doctor had brought his toddler namesake as instructed and sat bouncing him on his knee.

"When is Lucy coming home" John suddenly asked

"Not for a while I'm afraid doctor" Mycroft told him, "I wonder if you would be able to care for my nephews for…a couple of months?"

John looked momentarily stunned, followed by a brief smile. "You're not serious?"

"Perfectly"

**Night all**

**TBC**

**Jas xxx**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hullo buns, as promised just more Mycroft!**

He watched her vision on the screen in his office, studying her mannerisms. A natural voyeur, Mycroft enjoyed these little sessions. It didn't really matter who he was watching, he always got a little thrill out of the footage. His brother ran awround unable to stop his natural deductions pouring forth, spilling bile and hatred with snide comments and carefully hidden truths. Locked in his office Mycroft could make those deductions, hone his skill and if need be only he would ever know what he'd discovered.

Her right hand was vibrating with frustration and fear, the long cigarette held between the trembling second and third fingers. She was unable to drag from it, putting it to her bloodied scarlet lips but withdrawing it almost immeadiately. The vivid blue bruises around her eyes, showed in bright contrast to her pale drawn skin. The girl wouldn't hold out much longer, Mycroft knew, and then he would take over the interrogation.

Her father might be a Bluebeard, but this girl; Laura had a darker secret hidden beneath her mop of red hair, and behind those cornflower blue eyes. The Cambodian Dentists, step daughter. She had made phone calls to her father's contacts Mycroft knew, she had been in contact with her despicable sire since his convenient disappearance, and when his net had been closing in this slip of a child had wired nearly a million pounds stirling to a Swiss bank account.

When Mycroft's people had taken Laura into protective custody , she had been found in bed with a particularly interesting fellow, that Mycroft had particular delight in sending to Detective Inspector Lestrade. John Birtle, a sadomasochistic murderer, whom the Met had released an APB upon 6 years previously. Laura who prior to this discovery had seemed like a pawn in her Father's vicious game, was quickly sent to the CACI and Torture inc, for information.

The rendition had paid off, not only was the net closing on which groups currently held the British OAP, but an interesting route for delivering cash to interesting groups in other countries . It wasn't technically legal of course, but little of what Mycroft did was deemed strictly legal. This information was being cleaned up and at this moment finding it's way to the relevant departments. The legality would be sorted out later.

As he got dulled by listening to the pathetic girl sob and cry , Mycroft's mind wandered to his favourite stalking victim Sherlock. As he collected his umbrella he used the TV remote to switch to the view of the living room of 221B. A week since he'd visited John Watson, and the view was just what Mycroft had hoped for. Sitting around the small dining table, were Sherlock and John, clearly helping Simon with some homework, while baby John sat drooling and snoozing in his high chair.

Happy that one of his genuine arrangements was working out just the way he hoped, Mycroft felt a warm contentment, and he switched the scene off again. Ensuring he had his trusty umbrella he buzzed his assistant, informing her that he was going to attend their guest. He wondered briefly what else he was about to discover, before leaving his office with a wave and a click.

**TBC**

**Jas xx**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hullo buns, everyone at work has this new winter vomiting bug SRSV.**

**I am having plot bunny issues with my other fics.**

**Oh yes, and this outfit was in my dreams last night.**

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><p>Mycroft had arranged the babysitter, after John had complained it was unfair to leave Mrs Hudson with the two boys alone. John had then invited Mrs Hudson to come with them, after all it wasn't supposed to be dangerous, nothing more than a government party, the Home Secretary would be there.<p>

She had of course refused, not her kind of thing she had told him. Oh when she was younger she would have been dancing till all hours, but now that she was in 'the autumn of her years' a nice quiet night in watching the telly seemed just her cup of tea.

Sherlock of course was the one Mycroft had actually invited, the idea of a plus one seemed to John as an afterthought. However dressed in his best suit, and with the prospect of a very posh party to go to, John didn't mind being an afterthought. A night out that wouldn't necessarily end in him chasing a psychopath through the murky London streets, was just what the Doctor ordered.

The event was technically a formal reception held between the British and Lithuanian Governments. Due to a number of diplomatic reasons this reception had to be held on 'mutual' ground and so, rather excitingly for John, Mycroft had hired The Ballroom at Claridges.

800 guests had been invited, and the Ballroom, the Mirror Room, French Salon and Drawing Room had all been utilised. This was not a full white tie event, as the monarch would not be there, and apart from Mycroft the most senior British represntative would be The Deputy Prime Minister.

Sherlock of course looked stunning in a black single breasted dinner jacket with ribbed silk & with a single button, black trousers with silk braid down each leg, a black silk bow tie, a black cummerbund, a white Marcella dress shirt, black silk socks and black patent leather shoes. All accessorised with a white silk breast pocket handkerchief.

John thought he looked shabby at best beside his lover, but when he'd emerged into the living room for Sherlock's approval he'd had to batter the mans hands away as he was being dragged down to accompanying cries of delight and coo's of how handsome he was.

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><p>When they arrived at The Ballroom reception they were formally announced an led to The Mirror Room for pre-dinner drinks. Most of the British guests knew Sherlock, and he proudly showed John off to them. The Lithuanian's seemed surprised to find that Mycroft Holme's brother was a detective, but as soon as Sherlock pulled out his 'party trick' they were stunned into impressed, and rather suspicious silence. John was just impressed he had managed to refrain from any 'private revelations', and thankfully nothing scandalous.<p>

During a conversation with a the Lithuanian ambassadors PA, John first became aware of the threat of dancing. He hurried over to Sherlock.

"There is dancing"

"Of course" Sherlock was talking in Russian to a short balding diplomat, and didn't even turn round to answer John.

"Will I have to dance?"

"I should think it might be expected"

"I can't dance"

"Of course you can"

"Sherlock, I can't dance! What am I going to do?"

Sherlock finally turned, and gave him a withering look. "If your that worried seek out the hostess and ask her advice, I might have found us an interesting new case."

John turned away wondering how to find the hostess, he'd not actually received an invitation, so had no idea who that might be. He saw across the room a familiar silhouette, and thought "Mycroft will know".

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><p>Mycroft was having a lovely evening, even without his assistant who had been unfortunately laid low by SRSV. The Cambodian Dentist negotiations were continuing abreast, and it may seem that thanks to the Lithuanian Saugumus, Mycroft might get a rather useful arms deal out of it. With a few minutes before they were to be called for dinner, he was just going to check in with The Home Secretary, before collecting his hostess for the evening. When he spotted John Watson heading straight for him, stopping he turned and faced the doctor, plastering on the happiest smile he can find.<p>

"Oh John, I trust your having a pleasant evening, how can I help you?"

"Erm...do you know who this evenings..erm...hostess is?"

Mycroft was momentarily stunned, yes John wasn't really in Sherlock's class but the man had attended Sandhurst, surely he understood ballroom etiquette?

"Yes, John. I'm aware of whom my companion for the evening is. Do you need something? Perhaps I could help?"

"Oh sorry Mycroft...I'm not good at these things."

Mycroft's interest was piqued "What about Sandhurst, Captain Watson, surely you were taught etiquette as part of the sylabus?"

"Well...er..yeah not really my thing, used to volunteer for extra duties to get out of it." John laughed, and waved a hand over his suit, "I suppose I'm looking for Anthea then?"

Mycroft had a moment of pain, "No I'm afraid my assistant is rather unwell, and was unable to attend this evening. My society hostess for this evening, is standing just behind you.." he gestured at a spot just above John's head, and the shorter man turned to face the woman.

She was tall, and skeletally thin wearing a purple vintage plunge neckline palazzo trouser jumpsuit. The dark opal pendant that fell between her breasts sparkled at nearly John's eyeline, and he realised she was wearing 8inch Christian Louboutin Black Crystal stiletto dancing slippers. His eye was briefly drawn to her hair scrapped into a black jewelled floral chignon hairstyle, it's natural dark blonde colour highlighting the darkness of her jewels.

His breath was taken away long before she parted her purple painted lips, and flashed him her trademark shark's smile.

"Lucy?" he choked

"Hello John...have you lost my husband?"

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><p><strong>Never been to the Claridges Ballroom, but it is a wonderful art deco suite of rooms, that I would love to visit and suited 'Lucy's' outfit.<strong>

**Love to you all**

**Jas xxx**


	8. Chapter 8

The dinner was sumptious, and after it was finished John had a terrible sinking feeling that his evening was about to go downhill quickly. He'd asked Sherlock if they could leave after the meal, and was unamused that his lover had refused. Stating that it would be rude to leave so early, unusual for Sherlock, and so the bemused John had left it there, just waiting for the horrendous moment when dancing would begin.

Lucy had chided him, telling him he could just politely refuse if anyone asked him to dance, but then ruined her hostess-ly concern by telling him he couldn't refuse when she asked. John had avoided the obvious question's with her, when was she coming home? Where had she gone? Why hadn't she been in touch? Why was she here? Instead treating her not as a lover but as the seperated wife of his own partner. She seemed amused by his formality, and had flirted back encouragibly.

He'd never understand them, Sherlock and Lucy, just when they seemed to be grasping at some semblance of normality, one of them would fall away again. He wondered if it was their inherent darkness, blacking out all the light and good in the world. Denying that their souls could ever be good, and happy and safe. Sometimes however he wondered about Mycroft's involvment, was it actually him and the omnipreset Mummy, keeping these two lost souls on the edge of darkness, controlling them, stopping them getting too confident.

His revery was broken by Sherlock's hand pressing lightly on his hip, John noticed he'd lost his bowtie.

"You OK love?" John asked him

"hmm" was the distracted reply

The dancig had begun as the large orchestra band had struck up, Sherlock was watching the various players taking their roles. Mycroft was nowhere to be seen, ad John wondered what Sherlock was thinking.

"You can tell a lot about someone by the way they dance" The detective informed him, once again reading John's thought with ease.

"The ambassador for instance?" John asked pointing at a small fat man making a beeline for Lucy.

"He has a string of lovers, he doesn't care, he's a mysogynist, and his wife is planing on divorcing him. Oh and he thinks Lucy is Mycroft's mistress."

"I think most men here think that" John pointed out.

"Do you?" Sherlock asked

John was stunned and turned to his lover "Is she?" he asked.

Sherlock looked thoughtful for a moment, and watched the ambassador wrestling his wife in an inelegant waltz. She was stooped to his frame, and although she was laughing her eyes showed short anger.

"I've had enough of this" Sherlock suddenly stated, calling over a serving girl and whispering in her ear. As the girl hurried off, Sherlock removed his jacket and through it at John.

"Where are you going?" The doctor asked.

"He's going to dance" Mycroft whispered into John's ear, as he took Sherlock's place at his side.

The dance floor suddenly cleared and the band started playing "Mi Bueno's Aires Querido".

* * *

><p>The ambassador was having a lovely time squeezing the delightful hostesses bottom, when the tall thin young man walked up to him, on the now empty dance floor.<p>

"May I take this dance?" The young man asked

"Who are you?" The ambassador asked puffing out his chest.

"My husband" the tall girl told him.

He wasn't a moral man, but he knew when he was beaten, and with a nod withdrew, as the tall man's hand clasped over his wife's wrist and swept her to the centre of the floor.

* * *

><p>"Husband?" Lucy started<p>

"Wife!" Sherlock answered, and swept her into the first moves of the dance.

"You've upset the ambassador"

"Are you sleeping with Mycroft?"

"NO!" she giggled as he span her around "Is that what you think?"

"Why are you here then?"

"Katherine's sick" She pushed him away slightly, and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her back to him.

"Are you coming home?"

"When I've finished my job!" she breathed hard out as he swung them around again "Home? Is it my home then?"

"Of course it's your home, with John and the boys and me!"

"Darling" she smiled staring him straight in the eyes "Of course I'll come home if you want me too"

* * *

><p>"When did they learn to dance?" John asked<p>

"The tango?" Mycroft asked "Buenos Aires I assume, they were there for a long while"

"It's like watching strictly!" John laughed

"I imagine more deadly" Mycroft answered, spotting the knives hidden in both their outfits.


	9. Chapter 9

**So today the girls and I went to the sales... I will not be using my credit card again until the end of time! Also this years New Year Party better be good, 'cos the dresses they've just bought need somewhere...classy to finish them off.**

**Also if I'm left to fantasize about them for much longer, Lucy's might not make it to the party at all.**

* * *

><p>Sherlock twisted Lucy around and expertly dropped her, following the pressure she moved back up his body till his lips were pressed to her right ear.<p>

"You've put on weight" he whispered to her "something I should know?"

Lucy turned back to him, wrapping her right leg around his waist and sliding her left behind her.

"I am armed you know, I should kill you for that comment"

He stepped over her, and picked her up under her armpits.

"I'll take that as a no then, a butterfly knife, interesting choice?"

Lucy slid her hand down the side of Sherlock's left leg.

"Not for me, but I see you are carrying it's twin, we're you expecting me to fight you?"

She grabbed his waist and spun around to face him.

"No, I didn't know you'd be here, but I like to be prepared" Sherlock took a breath as Lucy ran her hand down his front "You know that Mycroft has secured the Dentist's release?"

As the music reached it's climax Lucy allowed him to lead her into a classic hold.

"Yes just waiting for confirmation."

The final bars broke and wavered, and Sherlock dropped her to the floor once more. Bending over her, he whispered.

"you're friend will be in real danger now, take care of yourself."

As they stood and nodded to the gently clapping crowd, she took his hand and whispered back.

"I always do".

* * *

><p><strong>I've been trying to write that for weeks...never got round to it! LOL<strong>

**Right onwards and upwards.**

**Jas xxx**


	10. Chapter 10

It was 3am when the intruder alarm went off, Lucy hadn't been more than dosing fully clothed, lying on the palatial bed, but the sound jerked her to full wakefulness. She could hear the wind and rain battering the window of her room, and groaned.

She sat up carefully, and ensured her browning was armed before walking out of the bedroom and into the darkened hallway. The sound of the intruder alarm was duller here, and the only sign of the weather was the whistling of drafts through the halls corridors.

Andrew's door was closed, so she crept along the corridor and knocked.

"Andy? You okay?" she called softly

"Mmm yeah, is he here?" came the voice from the other side of the door

"Think so, stay there, lock the door, stick to the plan, see you in a bit."

The Bluebeard Husband would be looking for revenge, it would come down on the head of his adversary stepson. They knew he'd returned to the UK, they knew he was out for revenge, and it was deemed politic to remove him in a single well justified hit, as he attempted to carry out that revenge.

Lucy had been told to expect the attack, and now it was underway it seemed laughable to her. All the men and power Mycroft had at his command, he'd arranged a 30 year old Mum of two to stand between a healthy young fit Lawyer and his embittered step-father. Still her 10 years of Holme's insanity had left her an excellent agent, unemotional, talented and resourceful.

She checked her gun again, and sent a quick text, to Mycroft after a moments hesitation she forwarded it to John as well.

_He's here, alarm has been triggered, following plan. LSH_

Creeping down the stairs, she heard the alarm click off. It shouldn't have done that, while the security lights were on, the alarm should keep trilling. She clicked the lights and swore, Bluebeard had cut the power.

Lucy had excellent nightvision, she was after all an accomplished catburglar, but it did add an edge to tonight's game. She still had the upper hand, a calm trained well armed defender who knew her terrain against a desperate, angry man out for final revenge. Still it did mean...he had very little to lose.

The window above the Victorian kitchen sink shattered, and she walked towards the noise, gently a single clean shot, would mean home to Baker Street, and a return to her normal life. Her breathing and heart rate was steady, but a slight burning sensation behind her eyes told her adrenaline was starting to flow.

The tricky part came when she reached the kitchen door, she pushed it open carefully trying to stop herself being silhouetted to her prey. She swore again as a shot rang out, a 9mm bullet split the door 12inches above were her hand. She counted to 5 and then stepped into the doorway, her eye caught movement and she fired realizing to late she'd fired at an apron flapping in the breeze. Equally giving Bluebeard an advantage, he'd no doubt seen her.

She fell back to cover resting her hair, against the solid wll, going over the kitchen in her mind, where was he?

_Wall, window, countertop, table, chair, broken window, sink, lardar cupboard, wine rack, wall._

No, but she missed something.

_Wall, Aga, Apron, Countertop, Chair, Shelving, Fridge, Wall_

No, hang on, chair? Suddenly she knew where he was. she stepped back into the kitchen, turned sharp right and fired at the man standing on the countertop. She missed the kill shot, but hit his left arm, before she could fire again, he toppled forward on top of her, yelping in pain.

For a second her mind went blank, the mans heavy bulk crushing her, still yelping but now reaching down towards her. Both had dropped their guns, and she knew if she couldn't get passed her flashbacks she was likely to die. Now her adrenaline kicked in, and she pulled her knees up hard, catching his groin and sending him sprawling backwards. She picked up the gun again but before she could fire, another shot rang out, surprised she fell to the floor and her prey took her confusion and leapt out of the broken window.

She sat on the floor, looking for a wound, assessing for damage or shock, she could find nothing. Swearing liberally she pursued him out of the smashed window, vaguely aware that there were now 2 gunman out in the dark. She crouched under the window and sent another text.

_At least 2 of them, shot 1 of them, followed out into the garden, might now need help. LSH_

She crouched into the bushes searching for movement once again, there were some dark patch's in the grass, that could be blood but she couldn't be sure. Then a figure ran across her eyeline 200 yrds in front, and she gave chase. The rain and wind was howling, and within seconds she was soaked to the skin. Her hair was plastered to her face, her clothes soaked to her skin, and her soft shoes squelched as she ran. The figure in front of her turned and she fired, seeing him go down, when a cold hand grabbed her left arm and pulled her roughly into the shrubbery.

She pressed her gun to her assailants forehead, and recieved a sardonic smile in reply.

"Sherlock?" she gasped "What are you doing?"

He put his finger to his lips, and pulled her behind him deeper into the hedge. She held her breath as another figure, passed in front of them. As he passed, Sherlock stepped out of the hedge and whistled.

The man turned and raised his gun, as a shot ran out, taking the man in the forehead. Lucy turned to see John stepping out into her eyeline from the other side of the lawn.


	11. Chapter 11

The Aga was filling the kitchen with heat, despite the still broken window. As Mycroft's men removed the two bodies from the lawn, Lucy, John, Sherlock and Andrew sat in the Kitchen. John and Lucy steaming gently from the pouring rain, Andrew still in his PJ's and Sherlock looking unbelievably hot and unruffled.

"It's nasty weather for August isn't it?" John suddenly said

The other three looked at him for a moment, then Lucy and Sherlock burst into hysterical giggles.

"Why did you come?" Lucy asked the boys when the giggling had subsided.

"There was someone trying to kill you, did you really think we wouldn't come?" John asked his serious face back.

"I was armed, well protected and knew what I was doing" Lucy told him

"Looks like it" Sherlock sniffed, and earned a kick for his troubles.

"Ok, did you know he had help?" Andrew asked the pair.

"Yes" Sherlock said, steepling his fingers "Your step-brother, Mr Wall" He quirked an eyebrow "Although as your mother is now a widow, and I assume will annul the marriage anyway, that's probably not correct".

"How did you know?" Lucy asked "We knew he had a collection of children, but how did you know the son was involved?"

"We posed as journalists" John explained, "when we asked about his missing Step-Mother instead of telling us no comment or similar, he claimed no knowledge of his Father for ten years." He shrugged

"It was obviously a lie" Sherlock explained, "and so we started to follow him".

"He met his father, last night in Hertford" John finished, "So we came to watch you".

"Fascinating" Andrew drawled sleepily "Well if I'm safe again, I'm going back to bed, better be up early for Mummy's return" he shrugged and yawned and disappeared back upstairs.

"You coming home then?" John asked Lucy when the lawyer had left.

"Are you talking to me again then, Dr Watson?" She purred back

"I was never not?"

"The other night, and Claridge's you were rather formal with me, I wondered what I'd done to upset you?"

"You left us, you left your children to come here" he gestured at the house in general "What did you expect me to do? You didn't contact us for eight weeks, and when I do see you, you're Mycroft's date to some swanky dinner"

"Because his wife was sick" she yelled "Not because I wanted to go, do you not think I'd prefer to be with you?"

"Pardon?" Sherlock interupted "His wife?"

"Katherine" she snapped "Surely you've noticed?"

"Katherine?" John asked

"NOT-Anthea" Lucy turned on him, "Mycroft and Katherine got married in June, just before I came here."

"Stop looking like that Sherlock...precious Mummy knows" Lucy snapped

"Why didn't they tell me?" Sherlock asked, a little hurt, "They never tell me anything"

"They didn't tell anyone I don't think." Lucy explained, "I only found out when the Butler at Claridge's called me Lady Holmes, so John may I come home?"

"Oh please" John looked smirking again, "I can't cope with Sherlock if he's going to be in this mood"

"It's going to get worse...wait till the Christmas invite comes"


End file.
